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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24492385">Trembling Hands</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/prncecharming/pseuds/prncecharming'>prncecharming</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Ascendance Trilogy - Jennifer A. Nielsen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>i love harlowe with all my heart</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:48:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>353</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24492385</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/prncecharming/pseuds/prncecharming</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What led Harlowe to face the King of Avenia in the middle of a war? What led him to believe that his own king was still alive? Written right before Harlowe enters Vargan's tent, we answer those questions in this short drabble.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Trembling Hands</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Taken off my blog, ascendantking on Tumblr.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He had to know.</p>
<p>As long as he had known the boy he had been an enigma wrapped up in a question. It wasn’t like him to fall off the face of the continent in such uncharacteristic silence–his curses would be scandalizing the saints and devils alike for years to come if he ever deigned to descend.</p>
<p>He didn’t just <em>die</em>. Vargan couldn’t have beaten that incorrigible child.</p>
<p>So, he was here and here he would remain until he caught a glimpse–sign, <em>anything</em>–of that rebellious boy once more. Harlowe wrung his hands together, closing his eyes as he took a breath to settle his mounting nerves.</p>
<p>How his king faced the devils head on at such a young age, he had no idea–though, he figured, he likely had no choice in the matter. And yet, here Rulon was, thrusting himself right into the lion’s den just for the spectacle of it. A smirk almost caught his features at the thought.</p>
<p>Spectacle, indeed.</p>
<p>With his head held high as his hands threatened to give him away, the Prime Regent of Carthya made his way towards trouble. Steely eyes watched the men around him with disdain, his shoulders relaxing as he came into himself.</p>
<p>He would not be leaving this camp empty handed. The world may turn itself upside down for a moment or two, but it would always right itself, presenting new opportunities in the chaos.</p>
<p>As he stepped into the Avenian king’s presence, a certain nauseating smell caught his nose–and unless Vargan cared for rolling in his own filth, it could only mean one thing. Either Avenian men were lax on their hygiene routines or there was another visitor before him, and <em>close</em>, judging by the putrid scent.</p>
<p>Harlowe nodded his head in a customary greeting, putting a hand over his heart as the other rested comfortably behind his back, “<em>King Vargan, I bring you sad greetings from the kingdom of Carthya, where our people are in mourning. As is my duty at this time, I have come to inquire about the body of our monarch, King Jaron.</em>”</p>
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